


not all purple things are bad

by inlightofvisa



Series: The McCall-Hale Diaries [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also purple, M/M, Sandwiches are involved, Schmoop, You've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlightofvisa/pseuds/inlightofvisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>misselaineofoz: I can see bb!Stiles using moldy purple bread because he loves purple & he loves sandwiches and so he cries when his daddy walks in, sees his moldy sandwich & won’t let him eat it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not all purple things are bad

**Author's Note:**

> http://indecentdrawer.tumblr.com/post/44274379776/purple-isnt-bad  
> I decided that I should work in a kind of pincer way, going from both where I'm working my way forward, and also the most recent things so that I can eventually fic all the comics. OOF.

It’d become a bit of tradition in the Stilinski household to call things that were not exactly good for health and wellbeing “purple bread.” All stemming from the one time when Stiles had been little, he’d spotted molding, purpling bread, and decided it would be a great idea to make a sandwich with it. He’d been almost about to eat the rather fuzzy thing before Dad had batted it out of his hands and then had to console a sobbing four-year-old Stiles and tell him that purple bread was, indeed, not good or fit for human consumption.

“Whenever something is fuzzy, you don’t want to put that in your mouth,” Dad had explained. Stiles had nodded tearfully before burying his face in Dad’s chest again.

“But I wanted a purple sandwich,” he had burbled, and that was how Dad ended up asking Melissa if she could bake them purple bread since Melissa treated baking as a de-stressing mechanism, and she had sent Scott over to the Stilinskis a week later with a loaf of purple bread and Mom had just laughed so hard every time she made Stiles a sandwich. Stiles had brought the entire loaf to school as show-and-tell, and Scott had stood up and said that his mom made [colored bread](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oArwgHVdVNM/SeQEB82qkgI/AAAAAAAABS8/cfC5ApUAxmE/s400/100_4061.JPG) and then Melissa had been swamped with requests for different colors of bread, and she’d gotten so stressed that she stopped baking altogether. Stiles had been so sad eating the last piece of purple bread and had cried for about ten minutes straight.

So when Dad finally puts together the fact that Stiles is seeing someone, he asks him if the person is purple bread.

“Dad,” Stiles says, making a face, “You can’t date a food product. Let alone a moldy food product. That’s not socially acceptable.”

“And you’ve been one to follow all socially acceptable things, son,” Dad quips as he chases his peas around his plate. “Is whoever you’re seeing… are they purple bread?” Stiles chews slowly, attempting to decide whether or not his Dad knows about him and Derek being a thing.

“No?” Stiles says, swallowing the last of an unfortunately large bite of chicken. “I mean, not at least that I can tell. Or that I know.”

“Okay,” Dad says, managing to harpoon a few peas on his fork. “But when you do feel comfortable, I want to meet her. Or him. And I’ll make a judgment for myself.”

Stiles knows that Dad’s looking out for him, and so he nods in wordless acknowledgment. He smiles a bit though, knowing that there’s absolutely no way that Dad could say that Derek would be something as bad as purple bread. Derek’s not bad for Stiles—in fact, Stiles thinks Derek brings out the best in him. He has someone he knows besides Dad who’ll always listen to him ramble, who he can trust, and who can trust him.

* * *

 

 Stiles brings up the proposition of finally telling Dad about them a couple nights later when he’s over at Derek’s house, plastered together, shirts off.

“Dad thinks you might be purple bread,” Stiles says, voice vibrating through his chest and rumbling Derek’s head. He strokes Derek’s cheek where it lays against him. “Like, there’s no way that after he finds out that I’m seeing you that he’ll think you’re bad for me, especially when he sees us together.”

“What,” Derek says against Stiles’ hand, looking up at him quizzically. His normally put-together hair is everywhere, mainly because Stiles can’t stop running his hands through Derek’s hair, and Derek likes the feeling too much to stop him.

“Well, like when I was little, I almost ate moldy bread,” Stiles explains. “And then your mom got a whole slew of requests for colored bread and I’m kind of indirectly the reason why she stopped baking.”

“So it _was_ your fault,” Derek remarks, drumming his fingers on Stiles’ sides. “You’re the reason why I miss Mom’s wonderful, wonderful baking. You’re awful.” They lay in silence for a bit before Derek opens his mouth again. “Wait, so why is purple bread bad?” Stiles laughs a little.

“Because the first time I tried to use not-your-mom’s purple bread, it was all moldy and gross and fuzzy. And then Dad told me that if something has fuzz on it not to put it in my mouth. Although look how well I listened to him.” He runs his hands across Derek’s stubble, and Derek chuckles.

“Well, it’s not like I’m moldy,” he protests. Stiles kisses his head.

“Good thing you’re not, otherwise I think that’d be pretty gross and pretty illegal,” Stiles responds. He pauses for a moment, smiling. “I won’t let Dad make me get rid of you,” he whispers. “He needs to give our purple love a chance.”

“Our love is purple,” Derek asks flatly, pushing himself up on his hands to look down at Stiles. “You’re so crazy.”


End file.
